Love, Daisies and Troubadours
by angelgazing
Summary: Dillon, Georgie, a lot of firsts and where they lead.


**Love, Daisies and Troubadours**

The first time he asked her out it was over the daisy centerpiece at Kelly's and under the guise of friendship. 

It was Wednesday afternoon and he'd been at the diner—for what had to have been the fifth time that week—to escape his family and hopefully run into her. Sitting at the same table, being properly ignored by the waitresses because they'd learned long ago he tipped better if they left him alone. Wasn't like they needed the table anyway. 

Finally, she walked in, short denim shorts and a pink tank top, her hair pulled back and still sweating. He pulled his tired eyes from the screen of his laptop and felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He tried to resist the urge. 

"Hey," she grinned, sliding into the seat across from him without waiting for an invitation. He didn't mind, he had and would do the same thing to her. 

"Hey," he answered, smiling back at her easily. "What's up?" 

"Nothing." And she pouted as she said it. "School is finally out and, pathetically enough, I am left with nothing else to do. At all. I can't believe I gave up Oxford for the summer to sit around and do nothing the entire time. Talk about a dumb move. I'm bored!" 

"So you're here." 

"Oh, no, I'm not here because I'm bored. I'm here because I'm bored and one more minute at home with my sister would only lead to bloodshed and since I can't very well attack a puking pregnant girl chances are it would have been _my _blood being shed." 

Dillon chuckled and shook his head. "Boredom and I know each other well." Boredom, though, skipped out on him when she was near. Funny, that. "I think, however, that I may just have a solution to our little problem. Only if you're interested, of course." 

She tucked her short, dark blonde hair back behind her ear. Paused and pretended to actually consider her options. There was no need to try and let him know she was only joking, he knew it all perfectly well and waited patiently for the answer he knew was coming. "Well, I suppose I have the time to listen to your suggestion." 

"Glad to hear it." Closing down his laptop and pushing it aside, he leaned forward on his elbows, preparing to make the sales pitch of a lifetime. "I hear there's this play-" 

"I am not going to the Shakespeare in the Park thing this year!" Georgie interrupted swiftly. "Other cities may have wonderful plays like that. Port Charles just has the worst of the worst. The costumes are cheesy, the scenery looks like it was painted by a kindergarten class and the acting is so bad it's worse those models turned actors on some sappy, horrible soap opera. And every year they manage to do nothing but butcher Shakespeare into a bunch of pieces and put them on display for all to see." Each reason was counted off on her fingers, quickly and without hesitation. "Have your world travels taught you nothing about the need to beware of people that couldn't get into a public school drama class putting on a play?" 

By the end of her rant and despite his better judgment, he was laughing. And she was glaring. 

It wasn't going the way he'd planned at all. 

But he was, after all, a Quartermaine. And he grew up with the Queen Bitch of them all as his mother. If there was one thing she'd taught him it was that as a Quartermaine he was entitled to anything he wanted and he should never take no for an answer. It hadn't taken him long to realize it or at admit it, this girl was what he wanted in this town. 

His laughter turned into a grin. "I wasn't suggesting it because I thought the play would be wonderful, Georgie. I was suggesting it because we're bored and avoiding family. And anyway," he added before she could object further, "you obviously have no idea how much fun these things can be if you have the right company." 

"They're never fun, Dillon," she groaned, looking almost pained. "Never!" 

"Ok, when I said right company? I meant me. Spending days at a time in hotels all my life have taught me nothing if not how to make the worst thing to watch entertaining." 

Georgie seemed a little more intrigued after that. "And how is that?" 

"I will only revel my secrets if you say you'll come with me." He studied her face as she really considered her options this time. "Please?" 

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "How do you make anything interesting?" she asked again, snatching a fry off of his plate and waving it at him before eating it. 

Oh, yeah. He had her. 

His smile spread wider. "Ever heard of Mystery Science Theater?" 

***

Their first "date" was as great success as it could have been considering she was unaware of the terminology he was putting on their night. 

They were sitting in the back, though it probably wasn't necessary. They were two of around only fifty or so seated in the section of the park roped off for the play that was made to seat three times that many easily. It seemed that the only other people in the audience were friends and family members of the cast and crew. 

"Of course, the reason no one else without an obligation to be here is watching this play is because it's even worse than I told you it would be." Her smile belied her words. 

"It's awful," he conceded, rolling his eyes and returning her smile. "But you have to admire the level to which they managed to screw a Shakespeare play. I mean, a bad performance is one thing. This is an entirely different, much deeper, level of bad." 

_"R-r-r… Romeo s… shall… shall… Line?"_

_"Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both."_

_"Romeo shall… What?"_

_"Romeo shall **thank thee, daughter, for us both**!"_

"Romeo shall thank thee, d-daughter? Daughter. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for… uh… oh! For us both!" 

"You know what's even sadder than the fact that he can't remember the simplest of lines?" she asked him as the scene continued. 

"The fact that he's got a monologue later?" 

Giggling, she shook her head. "No. Well, yes. But I was going to say that Leo and Clair Danes movie version was actually better than this." 

"I'm kind of partial to _West Side Story_ myself." 

When she didn't reply, he turned his head only to find her staring at him with a puzzled expression on her face. 

"You don't know _West Side Story_?" 

Georgie shook her head again. 

"Originally a play on Broadway? Released as a movie in 1961? Based on Romeo and Juliet? I Feel Pretty? Natalie Wood? None of this is ringing any sort of a bell at all is it?" 

"Nope," she admitted sheepishly. "Sorry?" 

"It's alright," Dillon assured her, exhaling to let go of his disbelief. "We can watch it whenever you get a chance, it's not like I don't have it on DVD." 

"Mac has to work tomorrow and I think Maxie and Lucas are planning on going to a movie." There was a surprisingly lack of bitterness with those words that pleased him to no end. "You can come over around two, if you want. They should be gone by then." 

"I'll be there," he answered quickly with a decisive nod. He was quiet for a moment before muttering, "I can't believe you've never even heard of West Side Story." 

She bit her lip to keep from laughing at him, but couldn't manage to hold back her smile. "Ok, alright! I am classic movie illiterate, I admit it." 

"I know it." Tucking that same strand of hair behind her ear for her, he sighed dramatically. "It's a good thing you're pretty." 

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, and she wondered how he managed to make comments like that seem so casual as she felt herself blushing. Not sure what else to do, she turned her attention back to the stage. 

"Are those swords made out of aluminum foil?" she asked a few seconds later. 

One of the swords in question bent almost in half as the actor swung it. They both dissolved into laughter and didn't even bother to try and be discreet about it. 

"How embarrassing would it have to be to even fake death by aluminum foil sword?" 

"Almost as embarrassing as wearing those outfits, I'd assume." 

"I'm pretty sure that in the time frame Romeo and Juliet is set in, they didn't wear bell bottom jeans. Speaking strictly as some one who has watched a real production of Romeo and Juliet in London, of course." 

"Well, speaking strictly as someone who has read the play at least a dozen times, if I were Shakespeare I'd be rolling over in my grave right about now. Oh! I love this part." 

_"Give me my Romeo; and when I shall die,   
Take him and cut him out in little stars,   
And he will make the face of heaven so fine   
That all the world will be in love with night"_

"She ruined it!" she hissed. "She's flat and dull and she has no emotion for the character and she ruined the best part of the entire play." Georgie Jones was a lot of things, but too mature to pout was obviously not one of them. 

"I should have known that would be your favorite. You're just that sappy." 

He didn't mean it as an insult and she didn't take it as one. Just bumped his shoulder with hers and continued to pout. "What about you?" 

"The ending." 

"Really?" And her surprise was written on her face. "I was expecting you to say the fight scene was your favorite. Although it would be understandable if it was now ruined." 

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I'll never be able to watch it the same way again." Chuckling, Dillon shook his head. "But I like the ending. It makes you think there's really love out there on a much deeper level that most people seem capable of." 

"Or obsession," she muttered. "I've never really understood the ending, I guess." 

"It's about loving someone so much you don't want to live without them," he whispered, turning to look at her. "You don't think that's beautiful?" 

"No. I think it's dark, makes me feel hopeless. Like there are no happy endings. And the thing is, it didn't have to end like that. They could have been together." 

"But that's just hindsight. They didn't know that their families could have worked it out, that they would have allowed them to be together. The only natural assumption for them to make was that they'd do anything to keep them away from each other." 

"But sometimes you have to have a little faith in your family." 

Dillon snorted in disagreement as rolled his eyes. "Have you _met _the Quartermaines? My mother? I'm telling you right now if she knew how I… how much time I spend with you, she'd drag me on a plane to Europe by my ear, nagging me all the way." 

"She wouldn't think I was good enough for you," she murmured in realization. 

He pushed her hair back again, his thumb stroking her cheek just a second too long. "Hey, I don't care what she thinks about it. I was just using it as an example." 

"I know." She smirked as she finally looked at him again. "Don't think Mac is thrilled with how much time we spend together either. Or Maxie. Or Lucas…" 

"Just so we're clear," he told her calmly, rolling his eyes again, "I don't care what _they_ think either." Dillon pulled his hand away from her and turned to watch the play. 

She nodded and muttered under her breathe, "Good." Before turning her attention back to the stage as well. 

_"I, uh, bring the tide… tidings of the… um… of the Prince's doom"_

"I'm leaning toward saying that the Kristen Dunst movie, _Get Over It_ wasn't this cruel to a Shakespeare play." 

"Ouch." Georgie giggled. "That's harsh." 

"And yet the truth remains." 

*** 

The first time she dreamed about him it changed everything for her. 

He'd walked her home after the play, refusing to let her go it alone because it just wasn't safe this late at night, it was past curfew because the play ran way, way over due in no small part to the Friar and would she please stop nagging him about it because he was trying to be a gentlemen in a manner that would leave his wicked mother appalled. 

She'd smiled at that, rolled her eyes for show and looked away. She'd stopped fighting because she was having a great time just walking quietly with him under the stars. 

But that sounded far too romantic and he was just her good friend Dillon who was sweet and funny and an amazing kisser and there was to be no romantic thoughts about him. 

There was already that awful crush on Lucas that left her heartbroken and kicking herself for her own stupidity. Just because Dillon actually saw her and not just a little sister didn't mean he thought of her as anything more than a friend. And broken hearts hurt. 

Hence the no romantic thoughts about Dillon Quartermaine rule. 

It was great though, to have this friend and this comfortable silence and someone that she could talk to about Romeo and Juliet and not be afraid of being laughed at. And he listened to what she said and disagreed without being patronizing. And he looked at her like maybe he really saw her and not just the other Jones sister. 

Which, of course he did. Because he didn't even like Maxie. Which was new. And great. 

When he took her hand to pull her out of the way of a jogger because she was too busy thinking, he'd just smiled as she blushed. 

He also hadn't release her hand until they were standing on her front porch. "I'll see you tomorrow?" It was meant to be a statement and ended up a question. She hated the feeling of her own uncertainty, especially with him. 

"Tomorrow," he'd answered, still smiling as he brushed his lips against her cheek. "Goodnight, Georgie," he'd added, "sweet dreams." And then he'd walked down the front steps, into the street and then disappeared from site. 

She'd watched him until she couldn't see him anymore then stepped inside to find Maxie glaring from the couch. Ignoring her wicked sister she'd gone upstairs, changed into her pajamas, washed her face and brushed her teeth. Just before she'd the flipped off the light she'd glanced into the mirror above the sink one last time, only then did she realize she'd been smiling the entire time. 

Georgie had crawled into bed, throwing her comforter off in favor of just a sheet due to the heat. She'd fallen asleep still grinning into her white cotton covered pillow. 

His appearance in her dreams was probably only natural, nothing to be concerned about. Nothing at all to think about twice because dreams were just funny and if you spent three and a half hours with a person right before bed you'd probably dream about them too. 

But they were sitting on her living room sofa, the TV tuned into some ridiculous talk show that was doing makeovers, chatting away about everything and nothing and none of the words even fit together at all. He paused in mid-sentence, tilted his head, brushed her cheek with his fingertips and then crushed his mouth to hers. 

It was scary and wonderful and she kissed him back because he tasted like everything she wanted and a faint trace of Dr. Pepper. His arms wrapped around her, held her close, and she was safe then, happy, warm, loved. It was a feeling neither of them knew well, but somehow recognized just the same. It was home. 

She woke up with the early morning sun shining through her window, content for a long time to not open her eyes. To just stay then, there, in her bed that was warm even though the foot sticking out from under the sheet told her that Maxie had turned the air conditioner up as high as it would go. Unmoving under her cover with the remnants of her dream and the feeling of Dillon's lips on hers. 

Dillon's lips. 

Her eyes opened wide then, and she sat up quickly as panic sat in. 

*** 

Her first viewing of _West Side Story_ was more than he would have expected. 

He loved the classics, loved the musicals even, and he really loved this movie. 

He also never glanced at the screen once while it was playing because he'd been too busy watching her. 

Georgie had been nervous about watching it, it seemed. Fidgeting when she'd answered the door, playing absently with the hem of her yellow t-shirt, looking away quickly whenever her eyes happened to land on him. 

It was strange to see her uncomfortable with him, because that was something she just wasn't. Even while asking him to teach her to kiss she'd just been embarrassed, not scared and definitely not uncomfortable. But that was exactly what she was now. 

Her legs were crossed underneath her, the bowl of popcorn sat between them, and she was focusing just a little too much on the movie that was playing. She chewed on her bottom lip, glancing at him once when he sat down and not taking her eyes from the screen since. Something told him it wasn't all because the movie was just that good. 

And the banter they'd recently acquired was off. 

All in all Dillon Quartermaine was less than thrilled. Very curious, sure. But not happy. 

There was however, one giant plus side to all of this. He wasn't one to look for silver linings, but he'd take them where he got them. And in her new found need to _not _look at him, he got an open pass to stare without being caught. 

So he watched her as she stared at the TV screen, barely blinking. Her skin was flawless, and not covered in pounds of makeup, the strap of her top falling down her shoulder. Chin in her hand, chewing on her bottom lip absently, the ceiling fan above them causing her bangs to dance across her cheek. He couldn't help but realize once again just how beautiful she really was, it was amazing that it still took him by surprise. 

Even when she was giving him the silent treatment. 

"Alright." He'd really had enough of this. "What's-" 

"Sh." 

"Georgie…" 

Her index finger pointed at the TV, then the pink nail tapped his knee. "Shush." 

He glared a little, pouted more than that, but did as she ordered. He was silent until the movie was over and then he was handing her tissues that were sitting beside him. 

"I liked it." She sniffled and wiped her eyes. 

"Thought you might. You can't go wrong with the classics." 

"Unless you live in Port Charles and decide to go check out Shakespeare in the park," she laughed. "Anyway, this one had a much better ending." 

"Life goes on after the person you love is dead, I suppose." 

When her eyes were dry again, she took a drink of her Dr. Pepper and tried to figure out her sulking friend. "The world doesn't end just because someone you love dies, Dillon." 

"I guess." Tilting his head, he shrugged his shoulders. "But sometimes one person can be your world. What do you do when they're not there anymore?" 

Pulling her legs onto the sofa with her, she turned to face him, her arm draped over the back of the couch. She forgot why she'd sat as far away from him as possible as she took his hand to try and comfort him. "Do you miss her a lot?" Georgie asked after a moment. 

"Who?" 

"Your mom." 

Dillon snorted, shook his head then nodded. Pulling his hand back, he hid his face in his palms. "I don't… It's not… I didn't mean anything about her at all." 

"That was just one of those double meaning things?" she asked, left eyebrow raised. 

"It was a thing you took a way I didn't mean it." Shaking his head again, he tried to shake off the frustration. "Why the hell… You know what? Never mind." Standing quickly, he took her hand once more and pulled her to her feet. "Let's go." 

"Just let me leave a note," she muttered, nodding her consent. "Where are we going?" 

"Somewhere. Anywhere. Doesn't matter if you're keeping me company." 

*** 

Anywhere turned out to be the fair that she'd forgotten was in town. 

Ignoring the long lines at the rides, they'd decided to just walk around. Children were everywhere, screaming, laughing, crowding the paths so that it was difficult to walk through, their parents chasing after the younger ones and just letting the older ones go so they could look on their own. They held hands to keep from being separated. 

It was hot and the sun was shining down relentlessly. Hot and sticky, her hair was flat, she was sweating and she was wishing she'd thought to put on some sun block because her bare arms were starting to turn red. She was also having a great time. 

Dillon chuckled softly at the guy across from them trying to show off a glorified food processor only to spray half of his audience with liquefied celery because he couldn't open it. She wrinkled her sunburned nose and giggled, and he tugged on her hand to pull them out of the line of fire. "I really don't want to have raw eggs on me all day." 

Nodding her agreement, Georgie followed him and three fourths of the rest of the audience. She looked over her shoulder and those remaining. "They're brave." 

"Or stupid," he replied, eyebrow raised and grinning. "Didn't you hear his "beautiful assistant" grumbling about that being the fourth time today that he'd done that?" 

"Wasn't paying much attention to the "beautiful assistant". But then, he was kind of dull so… Maybe he should look into selling dictionaries or something." 

"He'd cause less damage. Anyway, I think his assistant was his mother. She had to be at least 60 and they looked just alike. I'm assuming the resemblance would be why he kept calling her beautiful. Or it's an oedipal thing." 

"And we'd rather not go there." 

"Exactly." Pulling her to a stop he picked up a tan cowboy hat from the table they'd almost passed and placed it on her head. 

"Dillon," she whined, "I look like a dork." 

"You look cute. I like it. Anyway, you're burning. Deal with it." 

Georgie pouted, but didn't argue further. He tipped her new hat back just a little so he could see her face then passed the woman in charge of the table a twenty with his free hand. 

Maybe woman wasn't the right term for her though, she looked about Dillon's age, bleached blonde hair, too much makeup, and a smile that was too wide to just be considered service with a smile. She made a point of brushing his hand with hers as she took the money. "Thank you," she purred, trying to sound sexier than she was. 

Dillon didn't notice, but Georgie did. 

Refusing to let go of his hand, she wrapped her other around his upper arm and stepped just a little bit closer. "Know what else is helps with a sunburn?" 

"Sun block?" 

"Ok, yes, but I was going to say ice cream." 

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "We can do ice cream. Just gotta find it. It's against all laws of nature and man for a fair to not have someplace selling ice cream of some sort. Also deep fried snack foods but then we're getting back into territory we don't want to enter." 

"Who decided that Twinkies needed to be deep fried anyway?" 

"That is going to be one of life's greatest mysteries." 

"Thanks for the hat." 

"You're welcome," he replied, his free hand brushing along her jaw as she turned her face away. "Thanks for keeping me sane." 

"It's a cowboy hat, Dillon, and you like it. There's a limit to your sanity." Joking, she was finding, limited the amount of blushing she did around him. 

"So what was the deal earlier? With the not looking at and barely speaking to me? I didn't do anything did I?" 

"No." She blinked and tried to look confused, figured it worked when he shrugged and let the subject drop. 

"Ice cream," he muttered, nodding in the general direction the entrance. 

All she could see were people. "I got into another fight with Maxie right before you got there." And she had no idea why she was making excuses when he'd already moved on. "She was just giving me a bunch of crap and still refusing to tell Mac or Mom that she's pregnant so… Everything is my fault and anything I do since you came into town must be about you. I have no opinions of my own and am only following your lead." 

Dillon rolled his eyes. "I gotta tell you, your sister is an idiot." 

"She thinks Kyle loves her." 

"And I repeat…" 

"It's stupid," Georgie agreed. "She's made a lot of mistakes though, and I think maybe part of it is her not wanting me to make the same ones." 

He stopped suddenly and since they were holding hands she was yanked back. Losing her balance she went crashing into his chest. One arm surrounded her waist to hold her steady, the other hand went to her cheek. "I am _not-_" 

"Interested in my like that. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know," she muttered, trying to pull away only to have him hold her in place. "We so don't need to have this talk." 

"You know, I kinda think we do," he corrected. "Georgie, I'm your friend first and foremost. And I would not, for any reason, pull any of the tricks that Kyle did. No lies, bets, cameras, games, drugs _or_ teen pregnancies. He played with Maxie 'til he knocked her up and now he's running scared because he's stupid and immature. I would never do that to you because I am not Kyle. I really care about you." 

She smiled, pretending it didn't bother her that he didn't deny her statement. "I know," she whispered instead, so softly he didn't hear her over the noise of the crowd around them. "Works both ways, you know. That friendship slash caring thing." 

With a nod, he released her, only to take her hand and continue on the journey to ice cream once more. "Yeah, well. Doesn't change the fact that your sister is an idiot." 

"You're just saying that cause you don't like her," she teased. 

"No, I'm saying it because it's true." Finally they reached the line. "Now, Lucas I'll say is an idiot just because I don't like him, but then… that's true as well." 

"So really you're just the most honest man around." 

"Well, I do try." 

"Why don't you like Lucas?" 

"Cause he's an idiot?" 

"Works out well for you then, huh?" 

"I like to think it will eventually." 

Her eyes dropped to the dirt under their feet. "You were right about him, you know. I can do so much better, he's not worth the time or the effort or… He's been getting on my nerves, if he'd not going on and on about Maxie and how fragile she is and how I should take care of her, he's going on about how I spend too much time with you." 

"He really hurt you didn't he?" Dillon asked, holding her hand just a little tighter. 

Georgie just shrugged her shoulders. "He's not who I wanted him to be. Plus, I realized that if you can introduce someone as your cousin it's kind of icky to date them." 

"I can't even tell you how glad I am to not be the first one to say it," he chuckled. 

She was smiling again as they stepped up to give their order, because at least she'd made him laugh. "I'll have a strawberry cone, please." 

"Chocolate," Dillon told him, letting go of her hand to reach for his wallet. 

"You don't have to-" 

"I thought we settled this coming in?" he interrupted her, his tone bordering on a whine. "I'm a Quartermaine. Edward will do anything to get me out of his hair. I'm paying, so can it already." He slapped down the money on the counter as he finished, and only then did he notice how amused she was by his outburst. "Shut up," he ordered, glaring at the boy handing them their ice cream silently and trying his best not to smile. 

The crowd had thinned out considerably, possibly due to the man strolling with a guitar down the road singing at the top of his lungs. Badly. When they started walking again it was with joined hands. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome." 

"I bet you don't really bother Edward that much." 

"Not as much as he bothers me anyway." 

She smiled, rolled her eyes and gave up trying to figure out his family. The Quartermaines were legendary after all. "I never figured you for a fan of chocolate ice cream," she said, effectively changing the subject. It was probably easier since he didn't want to talk about it anyway. 

"Why's that?" 

"You seem like the kind of guy to like vanilla is all." 

He raised an eyebrow curiously. "You saying I'm boring?" 

"Not at all. I'm saying you're all, "You can't go wrong with the classics." Then you order chocolate ice cream instead of the classic vanilla. It threw me." 

"You're very odd, you know that right?" 

"Back at ya." 

"I'm a Quartermaine," he joked, "what's your excuse?" 

"My father is an international super spy or something and my mother left us with Mac to run off with Luke Spencer when we were younger. Luke Spencer is like 80 years old, and I'm pretty sure he's insane. Oh, plus I was kidnapped because she hooked up with Luke's best friend, Roy and he got caught up in the mob. Granted we mostly played video games but… All things considered, I think I'm pretty well adjusted." While she was talking, her ice cream cone was being waved, and somehow, had managed to catch Dillon's cheek as the last word fell from her mouth. "Oops." 

He let her wipe the strawberry ice cream off with a napkin but before she knew it, his chocolate ice cream was on her nose. "Oops." 

She glared. He smirked. 

"This wasn't how I meant ice cream helps a sunburn." 

"It wasn't?" 

"No, but this-" She tried to attack and he blocked, grabbing her wrist and easily overpowering her. Georgie wasn't sure exactly how, but she ended up being held against him, her back to his chest, and his ice cream still on her face. "Truce?" she offered weakly, realizing she wasn't going to win. 

"Sure," he murmured, not releasing her. 

"Really." Tilting her head back she looked up at him, somehow managing to keep her hat on. "I mean it." She wrinkled her nose. "I am offering a truce. Cause chocolate is meant to be eaten and not worn." 

Taking the napkin from her hand, he cleaned the ice cream from her nose. "Don't forget next time you wanna try that that I'll always win." 

She smiled, and though he'd released her, kept leaning against him. "You are stronger than me. Gotcha. Won't forget it again." 

"Good girl." His thumb was stroking her cheek, entranced by her skin. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and he nearly groaned. Sighing softly, he gave in, tossing caution out the window and leaning in closer to capture her mouth with his. 

Her fingernails scratched the back of his neck as she opened her mouth beneath his with a contented sigh. 

*** 

The first time he saw her after he'd driven her home and walked her to the door that day was nearly a week later. 

He was in his favorite video store in Port Charles, the only one that focused on the classics, it didn't even matter that he'd seen every movie they owned at least twice. Turning down the aisle, he found her reading the back of a DVD case and humming "I Feel Pretty". 

It was nice to know he'd influenced her life, even if it was just a fraction of how she was influencing his. 

Stepping behind her, he looked over her shoulder to read what she held in her hand. "That's a good one," he said, his voice in her ear making her jump. 

"Don't _do_ that," Georgie hissed, clutching the DVD to her chest. "Get a bell!" 

"Sorry," he said with a smile and a shrug. Tilting his head, he hunched down to meet her at eye level. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were avoiding me, Georgie Jones." 

"Oh, I am." 

He blinked for a moment in surprise at her honesty, then pouted. "I'm sorry?" 

"What are you apologizing for?" 

She knew damn well what he was apologizing for, and he knew it. But he shrugged his shoulders. "Not sure, I've learned it's best to just get the apology out there." 

"I wasn't avoiding you," she confessed a second later. "I was grounded. Because you were over when there was no "adult supervision". Mac doesn't trust me. No one trusts me. Come to think of it, I accept your apology for getting me grounded!" 

"Me? Hey, you could have come over to the Quartermaine's if you would rather…" 

"Your family scares me." 

Dillon chuckled. "That's alright. They scare me too." 

"Good. Now help me pick out a movie then we'll hit Kelly's." 

"Deal." 

There was no talk of a kiss, no talk of anything happening at all. Just smiles and banter and a good time had by both. And they'd held hands as he walked her home again after lunch, he'd nodded at the police commissioner when he'd come to the door as they said their goodbyes. And he walked away without a kiss for the day, but with plans for her to come over to the Quartermaine's to watch a movie the next. 

*** 

Her first trip to see him at the Quartermaine mansion was a disaster. And that was putting it lightly. 

Georgie had been scared enough before, and oddly nervous of really meeting Dillon's family. She'd seen them around town, her mother knew Lila pretty well, but if she knew any of them she didn't remember it. Her palms were sweating as she rang the doorbell. 

She was nearly twenty minutes late because she couldn't figure out what to wear and refused to admit that fact. Had ended up dressing like she always did because anything else could possibly freak out Dillon if he decided to read into it. Like, maybe she was trying to impress him. Which she so was not. At all. 

It had also taken a few minutes to blackmail Maxie into giving her a ride over, but that was almost fun so… 

There was screaming. A lot of screaming in fact, coming from the other side of the door. Someone that she could only assume was Dillon's grandfather Edward was grumbling as loudly as possible about not being able to get good help and having to answer his own door. When he'd opened it to find her it was with a look of surprise and a harsh, "What do you want? Whatever you're selling we aren't interested." 

"I.. uh…" 

"Grandfather!" 

Edward turned to find Emily glaring at him from the bottom step, hands on her hips that were getting thinner by the day. "Don't answer the door like that! It's rude and uncalled for, and you've probably scared the poor girl." 

"Now don't you tell me how to answer my own door, young lady! I shouldn't have to know how to answer my own door because I pay people to do it for me! But for some reason they never do. Reginald!" 

"Just a little," Georgie muttered—nearly whimpering—at the same time under her breath. 

"What was that?" Edward asked, turning again to face her one more. 

"N-" 

"Who are you?" 

"Grandfather!" Emily shouted again, finally coming down off the bottom step to try and urge Edward away from the door. 

"What's going on?" Alan asked, coming into the foyer from what Georgie assumed was the living room. "What's all this yelling about? Father, if you've upset Emily…" 

"I did nothing to that poor girl. Not like passing on a drug addiction." 

"Put a sock in it, Edward," Monica said in her husband's defense. "You aren't helping, Emily by throwing blame to Alan." 

"And you two aren't helping her by taking her out of rehab where she should be!" 

"I'm standing _right here_!" 

"Lord knows, you're enough to drive a person to drinking and drugs," Alan grumbled just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Couldn't possibly be _you_ that is to blame for AJ being an alcoholic with all the times you've told him he was worthless." 

"Skye's a drunk too, leads me to think maybe it's their father." 

"Skye? The one you sold at birth?" 

"She's not really Alan's, remember?" Monica chimed in again. 

"Oh, who can keep track," Edward said, waving off the details. 

"She's still my daughter!" 

Emily rolled her eyes as the continued to argue and turned back to Georgie standing outside with wide eyes and fear in her features. "They're always like this." 

"That's really not comforting." 

The older girl shrugged. "It's not you though. Can I help you?" 

"I'm here to-" 

A baby screamed as another man walked down the stairs, one Georgie was fairly certain was Dillon's brother. "Could you all keep it down? You've already woken Kristina up from her nap once today, how about letting me get her back down?" 

"Why aren't you in the office," Edward snapped at his request. 

"I've decided to let Junior runs things from now on Grandfather since you're instance that my daughter grow up in this house has ensured that she'll never manage to grow up sane. I figure I should try and get to her before you drive her to the bottle." 

"She's an infant! And a Quartermaine, Quartermaine's should be living in this house, under this roof! Especially that one with her crazy mother…" 

"Funny how your take is completely different when it comes to my brother." 

"Of course not, there's no telling what Tracy has raised that boy to do. If I knew where she was he'd have a one way plane ticket to his lunatic mother!" 

"He's not going anywhere!" 

Georgie blinked at that, prepared herself to pretend to not have heard it for Dillon's sake. For all the bitching she did about her family, she was only just now realizing how much he had to put up with on a daily basis. 

The baby continued to scream, Alan and Monica were arguing, Edward and Ned were fighting about something completely different, and Emily closed her eyes in pain and sighed. "I'm really sorry about all of this. If there is anyway you can come back later…" 

"I'm just here to see Dillon," she managed to say finally. Oddly enough, catching the attention of every occupant in the room aside from the baby, who kept wailing. Loudly. 

After a moment for the shock to were off, Ned smiled at her, patting his daughter's back and called up the stairs for Dillon. 

Edward huffed, "What in the world would you want to see him for?" 

And it was one thing to have to constantly defend her best friend to her family, but to have to defend him to his own? She glared at his grandfather, opened her mouth to respond when Ned shook his head, stepped forward and held out his free hand for her to shake. "Hi, I'm Ned Ashton, Dillon's older brother, please come on in." 

"Georgie Jones," she answered cautiously stepping inside. She didn't, however, mention that her mother had an Eddie Maine CD hidden in her collection. 

Her name sparked a wide smile from Edward, one that couldn't possibly be the slightest bit sincere. "You're Felicia's daughter, aren't you? She's a wonderful woman, my wife is very fond of her. But then, Lila's fond of everyone." 

Georgie also knew that Edward thought her mother was anything but wonderful. A few years ago her mother had deemed her no threat in the eavesdropping department, and talked to herself loudly while working on Lila's book and the great mystery that was how she'd killed a man when she was young. And how Edward had been anything but pleased that the story came out even just to Felicia and Luke Spencer. "I've heard wonderful things about your wife, Mr. Quartermaine," she said finally, politeness dripping from her tone. "My mother really enjoyed working on Mrs. Quartermaine's memoirs." 

"You heard a lot about that?" 

"Enough to know it makes a great story." And even as she smiled sweetly she felt satisfied that Edward Quartermaine took it as the threat it almost was. 

He laughed a little bit nervously as the rest of the group watched curiously. "I-I don't know where that boy is, can't keep track of him at all. Dillon!" 

Emily stepped around, a slight, tired smile gracing her lips. "So, Georgie, you and Dillon are… uh… friends?" 

"Yes, we're friends." There was no explanation offered, no reasons why or excuses or chances for them to argue. She was sick of having to justify her relationship with him and she sure as hell wasn't going to do it around people that treated him like _this._

"I think it's great," Ned said, ever the concerned older brother. "He just keeps to himself so often… It's nice to know he's spending some time with people his age." 

Her eyes darted up the stairs to see if she could spot him. She couldn't. "He's really great, Mr. Ashton. The best friend a girl could ask for." 

"Please, call me Ned." 

Georgie nodded, "Alright. Ned it is." 

Dillon finally decided to answer their calls, bounding down the stairs two at a time with a cordless phone in his hand. "What's going… Georgie?" 

She waved. "Hi." And to her own ears, _hi_ sounded a lot like _help_. 

"I've been trying to call you! You're late and I couldn't get an answer, I thought something might have happened," he muttered, mostly to himself, as he walked over to stand beside her finally. 

Emily came to her defense. "I think she's been here for at least fifteen minutes." 

It felt much more like a year. "It took me a little longer to blackmail Maxie into a ride than I thought it would," she told him, giving his cousin a smile of thanks. 

"Blackmail?" Emily asked, not expecting an answer but smiling widely anyway. 

"She'll make a fine Quartermaine some day," Edward muttered under his breath, maybe just an ounce of pride in his voice. Georgie and Dillon both blushed and decided to pretend not to have heard a word he said. 

"Change of plans!" Dillon announced, taking Georgie's hand into his own. "We're so getting out of here. Now." 

"God, yes," she agreed. 

"Here," Ned said, grinning as he tossed his younger brother his car keys. "You two have fun. Be back before midnight. And be good." 

"We will. Thanks." 

And with that, they fled. 

The second the door shut behind them shouting resumed. "Sorry, about that. About… them," Dillon offered to her, leading her to the car with a hand on the small of her back. 

She stopped, held his hand for a second until he did as well then wrapped her arms around his waist. 

He returned the embrace, but was a little bewildered. "Not that I'm complaining, but what's this all about?" 

"I was there fifteen minutes and it felt remarkably like a lifetime. You deserve an award for not going crazy. As it is, you get a hug for having to live with them. You don't deserve that… Especially not Edward's attitude." Her words were muffled by his shirt. 

Dropping his forehead to her shoulder he let out a shaky breath and held her just a little bit tighter. "Thanks." 

"Anytime." And she was almost surprised to find she meant it. 

*** 

The first time she asked him out, she was ridiculously nervous considering to any one else, they'd probably already done the first and second and maybe third date thing. 

She wondered if Dillon thought that way as well as they'd walked through the park hand in hand, after they'd gone to an actual theater to view a not so classic movie that was less than entertaining after their failed "date" to watch a movie at the Quartermaines. 

"I think my grandfather actually liked you," he said, breaking the silence and maybe just a little jealous. "You planning on telling me your secret?" 

"Blackmail, apparently." She raised an eyebrow when he continued to look at her with questions swimming in his eyes. "My mother dug pretty deep into their past when she was writing a book for Lila, found some secrets and didn't seem to consider at the time that'd I know what the hell she was talking about. A vague mention of it later and Edward is just a little bit scared. It was fun." 

He pouted. "And I missed it. Why didn't I get to see the scared Edward?" 

"Cause you were too busy not coming downstairs to rescue me." 

"I think you did fine on your own. Be proud! You survived the Quartermaines." 

"You've survived them for longer." 

"Yeah, but it's in the blood. Plus? Headphones are the greatest invention known to man." 

"Ah, now that one I know well." 

"Maxie trouble?" 

"Nah. I just had to tell her today that I'd tell Mac about the baby if she didn't give me a ride." 

Dillon laughed lightly. "Well, aren't you just the little felon today." 

"Hey, Maxie talk reminds me, what are you doing for the 4th of July?" 

"Um… I don't know. Probably nothing. Why?" 

"How can you do nothing for the 4th of July?" 

"I grew up in Europe?" 

Georgie rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine… Go and be logical about a silly American holiday if you feel that you must. I was only asking because I wanted to see if you'd managed to weasel out of the traditional Quartermaine "picnic" in the park." 

He was too amused by her use of air quotes to figure out her question. "Traditional Quartermaine picnic in the park?" 

"Ah, you have yet to be versed. See, the Quartermaine tradition for the 4th that I know of only because we tend to make fun of it every year, is to have a "picnic" in the park with the rest of us mere mortals. Only their definition of picnic is much different than that of the rest of the world. With us? It's a blanket on the ground, under the sun or a shade tree if your lucky, with food preferably out of a basket and even some ants. Picnics are meant to have ants, you know?" 

He didn't. But he nodded anyway as she continued. 

"The Quartermaines build a tent to block out the sun, put up a table with settings that most five star restaurants would be put to shame by and I'm pretty sure it was catered by the Grille last year." 

"And I need to get out of this?" 

"Yes!" 

"Why?" 

"First of all, family time?" 

"Excellent point. Second of all?" 

Georgie stopped suddenly, turning on her heel to look at him with suspicion. "You've never been on a picnic have you?" 

He was a little bit busted on that one. He didn't really mind so much. "No." 

"Well then, you're first one should be done right!" 

"With ants?" 

"Exactly!" She was smiling brightly to hide her nervousness. "You need to come with us for the 4th. It's still in the park, but it's with a blanket and ants and real picnic food. Plus we usually manage to get a spot that's great for seeing the fireworks. So, come on, you get to be my date." 

He blinked and smiled but could tell he wasn't nearly as surprised by her use of the word _date_ as she was. "Sounds… Who would be _us_?" 

Georgie cringed. "Mac and Bobbie are both working that day and Mom is still out of town so it'd just be me and you and Maxie and Lucas. I mean, I can totally get them to back off of you, I swear. But I understand if you don't want to come for whatever reason, especially since you don't like my sister or Lu-" 

Dillon cut her words off by brushing his mouth against hers. It was hardly even a kiss, just a peck really. And then another one. "But I like you, Georgie," he told her, before giving in and kissing her one more time. 

"So?" 

"So…" he drawled, hands fisted in the pockets of his jeans. He rocked on the balls of his feet and shrugged his shoulders with a smile. "What do I need to bring?" 

*** 

Dillon's first picnic went surprisingly well. 

Maxie had been shockingly polite, even adding the not-so-subtle elbow to Lucas's ribs when he stepped out of line. Of course, later he found out it was because Georgie had threatened to tell their ex-stepfather about her sister's pregnancy if she didn't behave. 

Their first 4th of July was the first time he realized he was in love with her. 

Night was beginning to descend on the town, and picnic baskets and food had long ago pushed aside by teenagers with full stomachs, they made themselves comfortable on the blanket that had been spread out and watched the sky in anticipation. 

Fortunately for him, her idea of comfortable was leaning against him, her head dropped back on his shoulder so she could see the fireworks when they started. Now though, her eyes were closed and his arms were wrapped around her despite the heat of the air. Unable to stop himself, he dropped a kiss to her shoulder, then rested his chin there. 

Georgie opened her eyes and turned her head, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she whispered, "Didja have fun today?" 

"I did," he replied, quietly though it was nowhere near a secret. "Mostly cause of you." 

"Well, yeah. I didn't think you came here for the company of my cousin." 

Pulling her tighter into the embrace, he poked her side, causing her to squirm away and squeal. "Nah, mostly it was to avoid my family." 

She pouted until he gave in and had to laugh softly. 

"Meanie." 

"Am not." 

"Are too." 

"Am not!" 

"Are too!" 

"Am-" 

And her lips were pressing against his, cutting off the playful game. He sighed, deciding if this was losing then it was all he ever wanted to do. 

A man strolled by strumming a guitar and singing of love and daisies. They understood it perfectly. 

And she kissed _him._ Him. Not some stranger to keep from being caught pulling a Jane Brady. Not a learning partner, not a teacher. Just him. And lips teased until the awes from the crowd drew her attention. Somehow, they'd missed the beginning of the show. 

Her head went back to his shoulder, her eyes wide open this time as she watched the lights dance in the sky with the stars. He watched her. 

She smiled, _ooh-ing _and _aw-ing_ at all the right times, mesmerized with the rest of the people of Port Charles, New York. Fascination on her features, barely breathing at all. And he watched her as the lights cast a red tone to her skin, as it faded into darkness then the blue came. As the fireworks exploded, he watched the reflection in her eyes. The fireworks show was amazing. Nothing short of breathtaking, really. 

"Isn't it great?" Georgie asked, not turning to look at him. 

"Absolutely beautiful," he agreed, his gaze never wavering from her. 

She gave a content sigh in agreement, hands on his arms to hold them around her. 

That's when it hit him, almost out of nowhere but not quite. His mother and her family be damned, he was in love with this girl and that was all there was to it. It was a little scary, and he was reminding himself all at once not to push because she was his best friend and in her mind this was probably like a first date or something. 

He kept quiet, continuing to watch her as she watched the sky. And he knew he'd have to figure out just how to play his cards right, but not this second. This second, he was savoring another piece of knowledge all together. 

If, he played his cards right—and that wasn't necessarily a big if considering his success thus far—but if he did… 

Then this was just the beginning. 

"Being in love for real it ain't like a movie screen   
But I can tell you all the drama aside you and I   
Can find what the worlds been looking for forever   
Friendship and love together   
Can I walk with you through your life?"   
-India.Arie '_Can I Walk With You'_


End file.
